


Alighting

by 3littleowls



Series: The Detective's Antidote [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Developing Relationship, Friendship, M/M, lock your damn doors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:33:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2890412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3littleowls/pseuds/3littleowls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times John didn't need to knock on Sherlock's door- and one time he really should have done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alighting

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't know who Darin is, welcome to the Empty Flat AU! "The Empty Flat" is my first fic in the series, but "Revival" and "Springtime in Paris" will kickstart you for most of this fic
> 
> It's no secret the 00Q fandom has whisked me away during the Sherlock Hiatus. I don't feel done with Darin or this AU yet, but if you are one of my few precious fans and have prompt ideas to inspire this AU, I'm open to them!
> 
> Thanks to the regular beta tribe -Anarfea, Prudent_curiosity, Beaubete- for their help.

~1~  


“Why did you knock? You never knock,” Sherlock asked as soon as John opened the door to the first floor landing. John had heard violin music as he walked up the stairs and Sherlock still had his violin tucked under his chin. Darin was sitting in Sherlock’s chair by the fire and nodded to John in greeting.

“I knocked because the door was closed and I don’t live here anymore, Sherlock. That’s what is generally done, yeah?”

“If it’s not locked, you can just come in. How is that difficult? You stopped me mid-stanza with your needless noise.” Sherlock waved his bow around to make his point. 

John pressed his lips together. “Your door was always open before.”

Sherlock sighed. “Mrs Hudson closed it. She felt the need to bring up some food and then left, nattering on about ‘privacy’. I think you should talk to her; she’s been overdoing it on her soothers.”

John looked around more carefully. There was a tray of fruit and cheese on the table and an opened bottle of wine. Sherlock pulled his bow across the strings and started playing something that seemed technical, showing off, no doubt.

“Just stopping in for a visit, John?” Darin asked, regarding him curiously. “Can I get you a glass? I think the wine was a gift from one of your clients anyway. It’s a bit posh for me, but…”

“Oh shit, this is a date.” John rubbed his hand over his face. 

Sherlock spun around and stared at Darin. Without losing a measure he asked, “is this a date?”

Darin blinked, confused. “I...thought so? You said, ‘drinks back at mine?’”

Sherlock ceased his song. John watched them consider each other silently until it drifted into a long, uncomfortable moment.

“Huh,” Sherlock finally said. He faced the windows and resumed his playing.

Darin reached down for his glass of wine and gulped it.

“I was just passing through but I’ll come back another time. Sherlock, I’ll text you later. Have a good night, you two.” John couldn’t get himself through the door fast enough. Whatever the hell that was about, it was something that they needed to sort for themselves.

~2~  


John tentatively opened the door and looked in.

“...can’t disregard every safety protocol.”

“Ugh, boring. I don’t have time for that.”

John heard a loud clinking of glass coming from the kitchen. He walked in and saw Darin organizing the bottles, beakers and half filled flasks that covered the table.

“You certainly won’t have time if you poison yourself in your own kitchen. Sherlock, this won’t do,” Darin rolled up his shirt sleeves and pulled on a pair of gloves.

“Good luck with that, mate. I’ve been saying that for years,” John said.

“Hi John. Saying it isn’t going to get through to him. Telling him may be a whole other matter,” Darin held up a petri dish and wrinkled his nose and threw it in the bin.

Sherlock dove for the bin. “I was working on that!”

John started to laugh.

“How was I to know? It wasn’t even labeled, whatever _that_ was,” Darin grumbled. He held up a plastic water bottle filled with a viscous gel and his voice rose. “Oh my god. In food containers!” Darin pitched it. 

“Now, just…”

“Go off on your case thing with John. I’m going to have to take this whole lot for proper disposal.”

John covered his mouth with his hand as Sherlock just stood helplessly and watched Darin dismantle his makeshift lab. He finally snapped out of the shock. “You have no right to come in my home and go through my things!”

Darin set down a box of slides and rested both palms on the table. He leaned over towards Sherlock and dropped his voice. “I’ll give you a choice: let me clean this up, or return the keycard I gave you to my chemistry lab. Because I simply cannot have a researcher that displays such lack of care running roughshod in my facility, considering the dangerous materials I use.” Darin paused to let it sink in. “Well?”

Sherlock and Darin glared at each other, trying to see which one would blink first.

“Fine. Don’t break my microscope!” Sherlock huffed.

Darin sniffed. “I think I can manage a microscope. Now, don’t you have an appointment?”

Sherlock growled in frustration and threw his hands in the air. “Come, John.”

“I’m really starting to like your new boyfriend,” John grinned as they left. 

~3~  


Mrs Hudson was coming up the stairs as John was headed up.

“Oh, hello John!” She said, stopping on the landing.

“Good evening, Mrs Hudson. I think I forgot my windcheater last night; I thought I’d pick it up. Is Sherlock in?”

“He’s here, but John, if it’s not about a client, maybe you should come back later. I might have one of my ex-husband’s jackets if you need it?”

John tilted his head. “What’s going on?”

“His friend is over again,” Mrs Hudson dropped her voice. “He’s making dinner. He wanted to borrow a whisk, so I went up, but I think they have a romantic evening planned. Our Sherlock, John! Who would have thought?”

John smiled. He hadn’t been sure how long Sherlock’s foray into dating would last, but as weeks turned into months, Darin didn’t seem to be going anywhere. 

“He’s been staying over nights,” Mrs Hudson winked. “Not that I was snooping, but Darin was leaving when I was taking the bins in on Monday morning.”

John grinned a little wider. For a moment, he considered going upstairs and making a nuisance of himself. Sherlock had cock-blocked so many of his dates in the past, he really owed him some payback. But no. Petty revenge was fun to think about, but John didn’t have it in him. 

“Now he’s feeding him up- takes some of the trouble off you, doesn’t it?” John said.

“Oh, he’s no trouble, John. It would be nice if Darin moved in someday, wouldn’t it?” She said. “He’d help me with the garden in the back, you know.”

John gave Mrs Hudson a quick hug. “We’ll see what happens. I’d better be off home to Mary.”

 _Sherlock and Darin at Baker Street._ John cautiously hoped.

~4~  


John let himself in the flat and held the door open for Anderson.

Darin was sitting on the sofa grading a mountain of papers. “Sherlock took the dogs for a walk. He should be back soon.”

“Hey. Sorry to bother you, we’re looking for something and will be out of your hair,” John said.

“Did Sherlock get another flatmate?” Anderson asked.

“This is Darin Allard. Darin, this is Philip Anderson,” John walked over to Sherlock’s desk as Darin rose to shake Anderson’s hand.

“Not his flatmate,” Darin said. “It’s nice to meet you, Phillip.”

“He doesn’t have another creepy brother, does he? Or...did Sherlock make another friend?” Anderson snickered.

John looked up to see Darin’s confused expression. “Um, not quite. We’re seeing each other.”

Anderson’s eyebrows shot up. “We’re talking about Sherlock Holmes, right?”

“Anderson…” John started.

“Well, well well. I didn’t even know he was gay. Hell, I didn’t even know he was human!” Anderson smirked.

Darin crossed his arms over his chest, face darkening. “He’s not.”

“Not human?” Anderson started to laugh. “Oh I could believe that…”

“Anderson, I think you should wait downstairs while I look for your ID card.” John waited for him to leave. When Anderson gave no sign of doing so, John barked, “Out!”

“All right, all right! You get so touchy over the freak,” Anderson tuned to go.

 _“Freak?”_ Darin spat at his retreating back.

“Calm down. He’s an arsehole, but he works for Lestrade, so you probably don’t want to go punch him. It would feel good, I admit, but it’s not worth it.” John moved some things around Sherlock’s desk, still looking for the missing card.

Darin nodded, took a deep breath and calmed himself. “Charming people you get to work with.”

“Yeah, and not just the criminals, philanderers and….hey, you OK?” John asked as Darin bowed his head. Had Anderson actually made him upset?

“He’s not,” Darin said.

“A freak? Yeah, of course not,” John reassured him. 

“No.” Darin looked at John. “He’s not gay, either.”

John stopped rummaging around and sat down. Darin was staring off in the middle distance.

“Has something happened? Do you need to talk about it?” John asked.

“These kinds of labels, he uses them when they’re convenient armor, but he really hates them. I don’t know, I wish there was a way we could...stop things like Anderson from happening.” Darin looked over at John, focused on him. “I don’t want to be the reason people assign yet another term to him that he rejects.”

John rubs the back of his head. “I don’t know what we can do about it. People are going to assume he’s gay with you two being a couple. Has there been...I’ve always wondered...it hasn’t been just you he’s fell for, has it?”

Darin shrugged noncommittally. John wasn’t sure if Darin thought he was prying or if he didn’t know. Or maybe he was afraid of the answer to the question.

John let it go. “Is there anything else he’d rather us say?” 

“Bugger off, I think.” The corner of Darin’s lip quirked. “I’ve been saying ‘prefers not to identify’ to friends who get these types of things, but it’s just not that. My sister keeps asking me if he’s someplace on the spectrum. I’m not sure what to tell her, to be honest.”

‘’It’s complicated?’” John said.

“The best I have is that it’s Sherlock. Just Sherlock.” Darin broke into a full grin. “I’m sure the likes of Anderson don’t want to hear ‘brilliant’, but it’s the best adjective I have for him.” 

John smiled. “Yeah, me too.”

~5~  


John was starting to get worried. Sherlock had been to Paris to see his mother, and had brought Darin to meet her. He had texted and called to see how it had gone, but Sherlock hadn’t returned his messages for two days. He was tempted to ring Darin, but he hesitated. What if the trip had been a disaster? The longer he thought about it, the more the radio silence ate at him. Finally he just decided to jump on the tube and go over to the flat and see for himself.

John was truly relieved when he opened the door and heard two male voices, but his mouth dropped when he saw what they had done with the sitting room. The furniture had been moved and the sofa was completely missing. In it’s place was a truly enormous blanket fort. They had used thin rope tied to bookshelves to drape sheets, thin blankets and even Mrs Hudson’s lace tablecloth to make the tent. They had raided the box of Christmas decorations for fairy lights, which softly glowed through the fabric.

“They use lighter tents when traveling to find forage in the mountains, and the black woolen ones as a base camp…” Darin was saying from within the fort in a hushed murmur.

John couldn’t resist taking a peek. He tugged up one of the corners of a blanket and peered inside. Sherlock and Darin both started in surprise. John belatedly realized that whilst he knew they probably hadn’t been having sex, they could have both been naked. But they were decent-Darin was wearing white boxer briefs with some designer’s name on the band and Sherlock was in his typical tee shirt and sleep bottoms. Both of them were scruffy and unshaven, heads both mad haloes of curls.

“John?” Sherlock asked.

John peeped inside a little more. They must have emptied every cupboard of the house of duvets and pillows to line the bottom of their nest. They reclined together like pashas, surrounded by piles of books, their laptops, a noodle container. They had even dragged the telly inside.

“Have you been hiding in here since you returned from Paris?” John asked.

Sherlock nodded and Darin smiled shyly. 

“Uni is on break. We have the time to take off. You’re always asking if Sherlock ever takes a holiday, so…” Darin rushed out and started to blush. John noticed there was a little love bruise low on his throat.

Sherlock started to chuckle at Darin’s babbling. Darin shot him a dirty look which transformed into a fond, happy smile.

“I’ll leave you to your hibernation,” John said.

“Not hibernating”, Sherlock said. “Research.”

“Oh?” John asked.

“In Paris we saw a painting of a yurt. Sherlock had never seen one. We bought a book on nomadic tribes, and one thing led to another…” Darin waved the book he had been reading from at John.

John laughed. “You decided to build your own tent.”

“Sherlock had never built a blanket fort as a kid, never went camping.” Darin explained.

“It’s not the craziest thing he’s done in the house.” John just had one more thing to check on. “Everything went okay with Mrs Holmes, then?”

“She’s enchanting. It was a perfect weekend,” Darin looked through his lashes at Sherlock, who just twitched his lips and said nothing.

“Good to hear it. Answer your phone and tell a man if you’re having a lie-in next time, Sherlock. I was starting to think something happened to you.”

“Of course you did. Now don’t you have some patients to bother instead of us?” Sherlock sighed.

John snorted and dropped the sheet back down and left to the sound of Darin’s gentle scolding.

~+1~  


John tried the door to Sherlock’s flat. The knob turned, so he let himself in.

He froze. His brain whirled and spun as it attempted to digest what he was witnessing.

Sherlock was kneeling on the carpet in front of Darin, who was standing with both hands behind his back, bracing himself on Sherlock’s desk. Darin’s pants were pooled around his ankles, Sherlock’s hands framing his bare hipbones. Darin’s head was tipped back, eyes screwed tightly shut. A soft wet sound and Darin moaned, and John’s brain hopped back on track and registered exactly what was going on.

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” John exclaimed.

Darin’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “John!” 

Sherlock popped off turned around to glare and Darin covered himself with his hands, cursing loudly and doing an undignified scramble to pull up his trousers.

John turned his back. “Sorry! The door was unlocked!”

“Still, John! Say hello or something! Fuck!” Darin’s bare feet padded across the floor.

“Don’t be so cross. You’re hardly shy about such things,” Sherlock reasoned. John turned to see Darin retreating to the toilet, trousers half up. 

“Don’t you dare go there. And don’t come in the bathroom. I...just don’t,” Darin sputtered. the bathroom door slammed shut.

John looked at Sherlock who was still kneeling on the floor, idly wiping his lips.

“So…” John started. “This is why people knock on doors.”

Sherlock hummed to himself thoughtfully and met John’s gaze. Then both of them tried their very best not to let Darin hear them laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> The fic was inspired by this gifset of blanket forts:  
> http://lonelylittlehowlbeast.tumblr.com/post/56289502519/okay-tree-houses-and-sinks-and-stairs-and-houses


End file.
